


A moment in Overthinking

by PenchantForPoison



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Caleb Widogast Needs a Hug, Caleb overthinks, Drabble, Gen, POV Caleb Widogast, Sad Caleb Widogast, no beta we die like men, other characters are only mentioned so i'm not tagging them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:26:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23141665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenchantForPoison/pseuds/PenchantForPoison
Summary: There may be mild spoilers up to C2E99, read at your own risk. I don't think it's too spoilery but read with caution, I def wrote it with ep99 in mind.Caleb goes to bed late.
Kudos: 41





	A moment in Overthinking

_Punish him._

Caleb wants to turn to them, wants to show them how Essek is him… at least who he used to be before the Nein. Caleb's wants desperately to protest, fight. It hurts him so much, like a dagger twisting in his viscera, ice cold. It hurts so so so much. Veth's words cut him sharper than anyone else's, and Caleb can't help the vibrating anger that pulses in his heart.

 _I could've been him_ , he wants to say, _If what he did makes you want to punish him, then I deserve the same. I have done far worse._ And he can practically see the pity in Beau's eyes... in Veth's eyes. He can imagine it in Fjord's, imagine the hurt on Jester's face- He desperately wants his mind to shut up.

His hands are shaking when he drops to the deck, knees pulled up against his chest. Orly is nearby, taking the night watch, captaining the boat towards their destination. The tortle hums softly to himself, and it warms the icy chill in Caleb's chest.

His head drops to his knees. The air is chilly, he wants to sleep, but their words keep echoing in his head _punish punish punish_. And he can't help it. Can't help the self hatred that curls in his gut mixing with the anger. He isn't even sure who he's angry at anymore. He just can't help how his mind puts him in Essek's place. He can't help but feel… betrayed? No. Like he deserves whatever punishment befalls the drow. The law should've seen him hanged for what he did, a fitting punishment for burning his progenitors alive in their home. Death.

Caleb's fingers that are idly scratching his arms faulter and stop, the ends of his fingernails dangerously close to puncturing his skin. It hurts, but not so much that it distracts. He takes a deep shuddering breath, watches the waves and gets lost in them, rising and crashing. Its futile, this fight within himself, parts begging him to let him feel, others pulling, locking things tightly in his chest where it burns. Burns in his lungs late at night, when his mind churns and churns as deep and dark as an ocean storm, and he just can't quite catch his breath. It burns like fire in his veins, his thoughts racing, crashing, wishing they were free. He's drowning. He binds himself in mental shackles, wants to throw away the keys, forget, just stop thinking for five minutes so his head can shut off and he can stop worrying about parallels between their friend and his past self who-

Caleb shakes his head against his knees. Fights the burning prickle in his eyes, the tickle in his nose, and he grits his teeth. The mighty Nien wouldn't punish Caleb so harshly so why would they do it to Essek? But there's conviction in their hearts. Essek helped start a war, yes, but is he beyond forgiveness, as Caleb thought he himself once was? Is he destined to be hung out to dry, be punished by the hands of his own friends?

Caleb feels sick. He stands up, his knees stiff from the cold, and leans over the railing letting the remnants of his dinner drop into the water below as he retches.

He watches the bioluminescent plankton glow at the Crest of each wave, small galaxies swirling about, dancing swirls at each lap again the hull.

He shakes his head, takes a swig of whatever he has in his water skin, swishes out his mouth and heads below deck where his friends are all curled protectively around Fjord. He sets up his alarm spell, sets up the dome and curls as far as he can away from them while his mind continues to rage in a turbulent storm, and sometime in the wee hours of the morning he drifts off to a dreamless sleep.


End file.
